Kiku Honda and the Three Brothers Effect
by Jao-sama
Summary: Kiku Honda is given a choice. He chooses, and his life changes in ways he most certainly did not expect.
1. Chapter One: A Disconcerting Choice

**Chapter One: A Disconcerting Choice**

It was a bright spring morning that morning, with birds chirping, plants growing, and cute furry baby animals running all over the place. Inside an old house ensconced deep in the mountains, an old man was dying. Gradually, of course—his people were given to long lives and even longer memories, a fact that he constantly lamented—but still, dying. He could sense it; he would probably not live to see the first leaves turn orange, and spring had almost run its course. However death would bring a welcome release for him, a release that he had wished for and yearned for many, many years before people would have even seen a single gray hair in his coal-black locks or a single wrinkle upon his brow.

A few days ago his left shinbone had exploded in pain quite suddenly, so suddenly that he had fallen over in shock. He yanked up his robes to see what was the matter with it, only to be reminded that he had lost his left leg just below the knee thirty years previously, and the decay that had claimed it still lay sleeping in the marrow of his bones. The old man knew all about phantom pain, and he knew that something had happened in the far south of his country, the part that had burned and blackened from nuclear fallout thirty years ago. A military invasion perhaps (although what any military from any country would want with a piece of dead, diseased land was beyond him), or perhaps something more sinister. The man felt himself consumed with curiosity, but he owned no modern conveniences such as a television or radio, and no newspapers were delivered here (the man doubted very much that the postal office knew of the existence of his little abode, as no mail came to him at all, which was both a relief and a cause for some small sadness—he had nor heard from his brothers in years, and hoped they might write him someday) and he had abhorred the long trip to the nearest village fifty years ago, and that was when his aged body had been considerably stronger and he had still possessed two legs. So he resigned himself to not knowing what the catastrophe was—for it was surely a catastrophe, having caused him that much pain—perhaps not even until after he died and he could look down upon his homeland from a much kinder realm than the one he lived in now.

It was as he was thinking these thoughts and reflecting on whether a nice cup of ban-chai tea would be worth the trouble of getting up and making it when he heard someone outside his house, speaking considerably louder than necessary. The man may have been old, but he was still keen of both vision and hearing, and possessed a mental sharpness the envy of men centuries his senior, more trouble for him as he became increasingly frustrated by the limitations of his decrepit body. Nevertheless, the presence of a visitor, overly loud or not, was enough to make the old man grasp the edge of a nearby counter and haul himself to his feet, grunting with the effort.

The man tottered outside, leaning heavily on an old wooden crutch that he himself had whittled soon after he had lost his leg. From the timbre and pitch of the voice, his visitor was quite youthful, and the man could and would implement his crutch as a means of driving off any unwanted guests.

When he reached the outside of his home (which was built in the traditional style of his homeland, a style that had long since been forgotten by the modern world until it was just his brothers and himself who remembered, and perhaps a few historians who chose to dig that deep into the past) he was shocked to find that his visitor was a young girl, a young girl most unwonted in her appearance and garb. If questioned, the old man could not even begin to describe what the girl was wearing, except that it appeared incredibly light and filmy, and it was almost as if the material shimmered with its own light. Her looks he could more easily grasp—she had long hair that reached to her waist, dark as a raven's wing, bangs a horizontal slash across her forehead. Her skin was as white as the finest porcelain, yet no veins, arteries, or any other inner workings of her body showed through. Her cheeks held a faint hint of a light shade of rose, and her lips were startlingly red, almost the exact same shade as blood (the old man had seen enough blood in his inestimably lengthy lifetime to know the exact shade of blood, a fact that he regretted deeply, as it always seemed to find a way into his nightmares). The girl's eyes were like shattered stones, a light gray-blue in colour, and they glinted with a bright intelligence that stirred a long-dormant emotion in the old man. He was almost certain it was fear.

"Hello, Kiku Honda." Her voice was cool and soothing, yet somehow oddly disquieting. The old man almost physically recoiled as she spoke his name, but centuries of classes on honour and politeness held his body straight.

How does she know my name? Why is she here? What is going on? Thoughts flew around the old man's skull like excited midge-flies. One of these thoughts collided with his brain to provide a startling revelation.

"You're the new me, aren't you. I die, you are born."

The girl smiled sweetly at him, sending shivers of fear down the old man's spine. "No. I am here simply to offer you a choice."

"A choice? What do you mean? What kind of choice?"

"A choice to do your life over again. To do it differently. All of the memories you have now at this very moment will be retained, but your body will become young again. You have much to benefit from this."

The old man stared. It was impossible for such a thing to happen! But—and this was no trivial but, it was one of those huge buts that seemed to show up every century or so and leave either world-devastating or world-healing effects in its wake—what if it was possible to do that? What if he could live his life all over again, making all the right choices this time? What if? What if? The effects on history would be huge. Perhaps if he did this, on the very same date as today, he would still be young and strong and have far less regrets in his life than he did now. What could be lost? Nothing—he was dying already, that much was obvious, and if this killed him it would only be a blessed release. But if it worked… If it worked…

"I accept your offer."

The girl smiled at him, chillingly so. "That was faster than I was told you would make up your mind, Kiku Honda."

"Who told you how long it takes me to make decisions and how well do they know me?"

The girl threw back her head and laughed. A tinkling, musical sound; it should have been extremely pleasant to the listener, but instead brought forth mental images of nails screeching down chalkboard and the horrific screams of men in vast amounts of pain.

"So be it, Kiku Honda. So be it."

From the folds of her strange garment, the gir withdrew two daggers, each slightly longer than a man's handspan. One was pure white, and appeared to be giving off a faint glow. The other was dark as night, and appeared to be sucking in a little of the light that surrounded it. Instantly the old man knew that these weapons were not meant to be so close together. Why was the girl raising them over her head like that, it was if she was going to bring them clashing together—no, no, no! do not do that! —the knives came flashing down—the old man must have cried out—laughter from the girl—so he was going to die, after all—

The daggers came together, spitting sparks and a single pure tone, a beautiful tone, unlike the laughter of the girl, truly beautiful. The old man felt himself washed over with the sound until he was surrounded by a globe of beautiful golden light, light that faded away his aged body until it looked as it was almost a thousand years previously. The light roared and snapped around him, travelling at a fast speed, he was going to make it, the man realised. Then it all began to break down.

The orb of golden light appeared to slam into something. It shuddered violently as tongues of blackness flickered through it, seemingly wanting to rip the ball apart. A cool female voice echoed.

Status report: failure. Shields at defence, dropping to sixty. Life support capabilities stable. Attack ratio: fifty to three-sixty. Repeat: Status report: project has been a failure. Safe transport of subject has failed. Shields in defence aspect, dropping to fifty-eight.

The ball shuddered and continued to fall apart. The man knew that he was truly going to die now; it had been a wonderful hope, but a futile one.

The ball of light split, shreds of golden light flying everywhere. That same cool female voice echoed, completely impersonal like the voices from automated telephone services, but somehow harried.

Life support systems at zero. Shields at three per cent. Subject survival at ten per cent. Initiating defensive measures.

Initiating the Three Brothers Effect.


	2. Chapter Two: Young and Old Meet

**Chapter Two: Young and Old Meet**

Kiku Honda awoke from his pleasant nap with a start. His left leg ached. One part of his mind him that this was because the unknown catastrophe that had happened in the far south, and the other part of his mind told him that this was because he had barked his shin against a chair while over at England's for tea and had hobbled around for a good five minutes after that, spitting out profanities under his breath.

The first part of his mind saw the fact that he still had a left leg and let out a joyful yell. The other part of his mind let out a yell at the fact a part of his mind was yelling. What the hell? It's just a leg!

Yes, a leg! My leg! It feels so good to have two feet again—at this, the body of Kiku Honda wiggled its toes.

Who are you?

You.

But that's impossible; I'm myself. You can't be me if I am.

Can't I?

No! You can't!

Mental silence for a bit.

Well, this certainly didn't turn out the way I expected. I was under the impression that there would be only one of me when I arrived in my past. But—I didn't ask that girl for any information regarding what she was going to do, really, I should have. Shame.

…What. The hell. Are you blabbing about?

And so that part of his mind showed the other—through memories, mostly, although sometimes he broke in with a brief explanation of things, telling his younger self why this happened and what caused him to be the way he had been.

Well then—we cannot just sit here debating all day on who's who. You are older than I am; you will be Old Kiku. I will be Young Kiku, unless you have any objections.

None so far. Can we go outside please?

I feel like a cup of tea first.

I don't. I want to go outside.

Well you'll just have to be patient then.

It's been over a hundred years since I ran around outside, and I think thirty years since I've been outside at all, excepting today when I met with that girl. Please?

You wanted a cup of tea then.

Would you like some crumpets with your tea, then? And perhaps a kiss from England-san?

The body of Kiku Honda tripped over the doorframe and fell crashing to the floor. WHAT THE HELL? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

Then it hasn't happened yet. Good.

What hasn't happened yet?

Nothing of your concern.

You're me; therefore it is my concern.

Flawed logic. I am not exactly you, having far more experience and memories under my belt.

Can I just have my cup of tea?

Certainly. Ban-chai, I presume.

What else?

There are several hundred varieties of tea that spring to mind.

The tea was made and consumed, and Young Kiku let Old Kiku have control of his body long enough to run around outside for a good hour and a half.

You must have missed nature very much.

Not very. I was smack-dab in the middle of it. It was the running around part that I missed, see. The wind in my hair, the sunshine in my face…

The house was small as well, was it not?

About 450 square feet.

That's tiny.

You get used to it after a hundred years or so.

Why did you isolate yourself like that?

_Brother, your hair is white!_

What?

…Nothing. A memory.

I see.

_…Yours is gray…_


	3. Chapter Three: A Serious Case Of Deja Vu

**Chapter Three: A Serious Case o****f Déjà-Vu**

The morning of the next day dawned bright and cheerful, the sunrise a pale rose in colour, the birds belting out their cheerful wake-up calls. Both Young Kiku and Old Kiku had awoken at approximately the same time, so there was no call for early-morning mental hysterics.

A surprise to both of them was Wang Yao already up; awake, in Kiku's house, and making breakfast. Old Kiku let out a cry at seeing his older brother, intending to run forward to embrace him, but Young Kiku snatched control away from him at the last second. Don't get too excited. He'll wonder what's wrong with you.

What's wrong with you, rather, not wanting to hug your brother.

I saw him only yesterday.

Still. He's doing this for you.

Or for you.

He doesn't know I'm here. He doesn't know I exist. Why would he do anything for me?

He does have magic, you know. Maybe he can sense you're here.

I doubt it.

Why?

The subject of the debate was the one who interrupted it—Wang Yao set a large plate down in front of Kiku. "Eat," he told Kiku. So Kiku ate, thanking his brother profusely when he had finished.

"It's nothing, really," Yao insisted. "Just a little treat for my little brother ~aru."

"Thank you very much," Old Kiku said. "This means a lot to me."

Yao smiled happily. "I'm glad."

Old Kiku got up and hugged Yao before Young Kiku could stop him, causing Young Kiku to let out a noise of shock and disapproval, and Yao to utter a small squeak of surprise before hugging Kiku back. The two stood like that for a while, awkwardly, before Young Kiku rather violently wrenched control back and stepped away.

Yao left soon after.

Don't do things like that!

Why not?

Because! It's awkward and odd.

He's my brother.

Yes! A brother, not a lover!

You can hug your siblings without suggesting anything intimate between them!

After half an hour of arguing, Kiku had a decided headache. Young Kiku informed Old Kiku that he needed to go visit England again today, as his visit the day before had been cut short by the unexpected appearance of America.

So, without further ado, he left to go see England. After all, over three hundred years of staying in your own country (excepting the trip to the hospital for his leg, but he really didn't want to think about that, and not because of the loss of half a limb) could be tiring, and Old Kiku wanted a change of scenery.

Someone was there to watch him leave.


	4. Interlude the First

**Interlude the First**

The two watched the monitor carefully.

One, who was standing, licked his lips nervously. "He's leaving."

The other, who was sitting, nodded her head. "He'll want to."

The stander: "He's an anomaly."

The sitter: "Most anomalies balance out in time. My guess is that the younger one will fade out over a short amount of time."

"And if it doesn't fade away?"

"Then we'll have to kill one of them."

"You're serious."

"Very."

He glanced down. "What started this?"

She glanced up. "She did."

"Oh. What the fuck was she doing?"

The female snorted. "She used the Twindaggers. Either she was really trying to help him and give him a second chance, or she was trying to kill him."

"…Well, she really fucked that up then."

"Watch your language. You're in the presence of a lady."

"Some lady you are."

Another monitor distracted the two for a while. The screen showed a blurred, grainy image of a large chapel exploding in a landslide. The woman wrote something down, and then turned back to the original screen she and her partner had been observing.

"Do you have the number of that dimension recorded?"

"Yes. Z101-683-259-17c."

"C?"

"A splinter form the main dimension occurred when she appeared. To account for the choice he was facing."

"But then it should be 'b,' not 'c,' unless there's another."

"Yes, there's another. It's been running parallel to the main branch dimension for about a thousand time-units."

"Does the main dimension have a letter designate?"

"No. 'a' was a natural splinter when the dimension was still young. 'b' is still unexplained. And of course, we're looking at 'c' now."

Kiku Honda was knocking on the door of England's house.

"Well well. Should we dispatch a team now?"

"I'll go."

He looked down at her. "You? Are you qualified for that?"

She glared at him. "Of course I am, you twit. Prepare a dispatch module."

"Right away."


	5. Chaper Four: Something Momentous

**Chapter Four: Something Momentous... Doesn't Happen**

"Ah, Japan. Welcome. Please come in."

Kiku bowed politely to England and entered his home. "I apologize for the inconvenience."

England laughed. "Oh, no, no, please don't! It's not your fault. It's that idiot America's fault."

Old Kiku was agitated and unnerved, and he kept fighting for control. Young Kiku was annoyed at this, and managed to shove Old Kiku to the back of his mind.

Let me out—

"So, England-san, you said you had something to discuss with me?"

England crisply folded his newspaper and set it aside. The date read August 29, 1931. "Yes, I did, actually. I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all. I'd be glad to listen to what you have to say."

England had a strange look in his eyes, almost feral in its intensity. Young Kiku chose to ignore this look, although it unnerved him quite a bit. Old Kiku was getting more and more agitated by the second. Run, run! Leave this place, hurry, before it's too late!

Too late for what? Young Kiku asked.

You.

Run.

Hurry.

Thoughts and agitations whirled around in Kiku's mind. England was saying something, something that didn't quite register….

Until very suddenly Kiku Honda found himself pinned to the wall by England. The feral intensity gleamed out of those emerald eyes, and suddenly Young Kiku knew exactly what was going on and exactly why Old Kiku had been so agitated and they needed to get out of here quick, before England went any farther than pinning his arms to the wall and staring at him hungrily like a starved tiger watches his prey…

Kiku Honda wrenched his body away from England's grasp. He cold feel the other nation trying to grab onto him to keep Kiku from running away, but Old Kiku kicked back in England's general direction. There was a wheezing noise as the blow landed and a thud as England fell. Kiku Honda did not stay around to find out what happened after that. He did not stop running until he had collapsed, panting, on the floor of his bedroom.

He raped you? Young Kiku asked after he had calmed down enough to return to rational thought.

A feeling of assent came from the presence that was Old Kiku. I didn't realise today was that day, otherwise I would have talked you out of going to see England entirely. I'm just glad I could prevent it from happening.

Thank you… I…

Which means, then, that the Second World War has yet to happen, doesn't it?

The _second_ World War? There's going to be another?

Yes.

Why?

It started because Germany was bitter over his loss in the first war… His boss, Adolf Hitler, built up the German military… Adolf Hitler had broken ideals that he tried to force upon the rest of Europe. It will happen soon.

Should I talk to Hirohito-sama about this?

No. At all costs, we will remain neutral during the war.

Neutral? Really?

Yes… If we remain neutral, that will stop us from dragging America into the war, and perhaps that will give America no reason to create the atomic bomb, and even if he does create it, we will not be involved, so there will be no reason for him to bomb us… Saving the lives of millions of innocents. That in turn… Would stop bitter feelings… Perhaps, then, I wouldn't have lost…

Lost what?

Ah, ah, nothing in particular—I was merely thinking to myself.

The two discussed political strategy in a wartime environment for several hours. It was a very enlightening conversation for both of them, both having different perspectives on the situation—Old Kiku having the hindsight his age allowed, and Young Kiku being more acutely aware of the current socio-political situation. They threw ideas at each other, engaged in vicious mental debate, plotted out various courses of actions they would take if situations went one way or another, until they had to stop for lack of material to cover.

Today is the 29th of August, 1931, isn't it? Old Kiku asked.

Hai. It is.

Hirohito-san will approach you soon with the proposition of the conquest of Manchuria. We must deny him at all costs.

Because that conquest is the start of our involvement in the war?

Hai.

But—We need the raw materials Manchuria has to offer, so—

Suggest a diplomatic meeting between Hirohito-san, Tojo-san, and whomever is leading China these days, as well as our brother. I'm sure between the five of us we can work something out that will end in benefits for both nations.

So that is your suggestion?

At this point in time I see no other way to avoid conflict, which is the whole reason I came back here.

To avoid conflict? That's a rather trivial reason.

Iie, not to avoid conflict in that sense, but to make the right decisions in my life. Entering World War Two set off a prolonged chain of events that caused the deaths of two people near to me.

You had lovers?

….Iie.

Who, then?

No response to Young Kiku's query. A mental sigh issued from his part of the mind.

A grandfather clock (a gift from England when their relations had been better) chimed out the hour with steady bongs. 17:00. The dark mahogany wood vibrated with each low _bong._ Kiku Honda stared at the clock for a long while, before he went into his kitchen to prepare himself an early supper.

He scratched the back of his head in dismay, looking at piles upon piles of dirty dishes in the sink. Supper would have to be something simple. Perhaps cup ramen.

The sound of the front door rattling drew Kiku Honda from his thoughts. "Honda!" Hideki Tojo's authoritative voice sliced through the quiet evening.

Kiku Honda sighed. Supper would have to wait.

The room was stuffy.

It was filled with books, papers, model airplanes and warships, ships in glass bottles, a katana hung haphazardly on the wall, and the occasional piece of trash, so it already felt cramped with the three people in there. But that was not what made it stuffy.

It was the aura the primary occupant of the room gave off—A brutal, violent feeling, that circled around the 'intruders' of his space almost as if it wanted to choke them. The first man in the room seemed to be doing a good job of ignoring this feeling, or perhaps he didn't sense it. On the other hand, only centuries of classes on politics, manners, and honour kept the second man seated calmly.

The third man—the one who had invited the other two to this space—was pacing in front of a bulleting board with many pieces of paper pinned on it, detailing military stratagems and lists of supplies and schedules of who did what where when. His stance was drawn in to itself, his movements controlled, precise. This was a man under great stress.

"And that is why the conquest of Manchuria will be beneficial to our country," the third man was saying. The first man stroked his beard and nodded slowly.

"Tojo-san, you make an excellent point. What does Honda-san have to think about this plan?"

The second man bowed his head slightly before starting to speak. "It is well formulated. Your attention to detail is as striking as always."

Tojo nodded his head in a semblance of a bow.

"But—"

Tojo stiffened suddenly.

"I do not think this is the best way. Conquest of Manchuria will only place tensions between the two countries, and with the already strained relations in Europe over Nazi Germany's movements, I do not think seizing Manchuria by force will be helpful in the long-term analysis of the situation. Most likely other countries will become involved and Manchuria will be returned to Chinese control, with heavy losses on our side."

The first man looked impressed. "You make quite an argument. We are already aware of the rather intense situation in Europe, but that's a world away. And we do need the raw resources Manchuria will provide. How do you suggest we attain them?"

Kiku Honda blinked. "I suggest we arrange a diplomatic meeting between ourselves and my brother and his boss, whomever that may be at the moment. We can suggest a trade alliance more profitable that the ones we already have. I believe my brother will be willing to cooperate with this agreement."

"Very well then, Honda-san. I will propose a meeting," the emperor Hirohito said. "While General Tojo's plan is as perfect as always, I hear you in your plea to avoid violence."

From behind the Divine Emperor, General Hideki Tojo glared viciously at the unassuming Kiku Honda. Tojo did not like to be bested by a man whom he considered his junior, despite the fact that the man in question was at least two thousand years older than he was. (Whether or not Tojo knew about Kiku Honda's identity was in question, although he probably didn't. If he had, he would perhaps not have felt such malice toward the other man. Tojo was, deep down, jealous that Kiku Honda had a better judgement of the situation, but of course, he would not be privy to the fact that Kiku Honda had several centuries more military experience under his belt.) The relaxed way Kiku Honda appeared to do everything and his slightly feminine appearance only served to push the General's frustration higher. Tojo's eyes narrowed in thought.

This 'Kiku Honda' would have a rather nasty surprise waiting for him when he returned home.

Kiku Honda pulled open the door to his house with a weary sigh. He was tired, bone tired, and he had made a powerful enemy today, a fact that he regretted.

I wish that could have gone differently.

Hai, but there was nothing else I could think to say…

Perhaps if we—What?

What?

It's 23:38. I thought it was still much earlier…

O-Oh. All right then. Should we go to bed for the night?

Hai. The debating with you and the meeting with Tojo-san and Hirohito-san wore me out.

The equivalent to a mental chuckle. To bed it is then.

As they were walking: You joined against Igirisu-san in the Second World War because of what happened with him today?

Hai.

It has no political significance?

Iie. None besides my motivation to go through with becoming a part of World War Two.

Things are different than they would have been, aren't they.

Just by my being here they are. It's quite humbling, isn't it, to know your life can be turned upside-down by a simple yes or no choice given to you by a powerful stranger.

Hai.

Silence. There were no thoughts, no outside noises, save for the faint sliding noise of Kiku Honda pulling open the door to his bedroom, where he found that he had a guest.

She was standing. Short purple hair was pulled into short purple braids, and her intense gaze was a dark wine red, hints of brown in her irises as well. Her clothes were strange, not very easily describable, although the words cape and jumpsuit came to mind. She was short, slightly shorter than Kiku Honda himself was. Her gaze was almost worried.

"Good evening, Kiku Honda. I'm sorry to barge into your house uninvited like this. My name is Toby."

"Why are you here?" Kiku Honda asked.

"I've come to kill you," Toby casually replied.


End file.
